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Afternoon Tea, but what’s the twist?

Last weekend Helen
and I jumped on the Groupon bandwagon with what [on paper] seemed a very
exciting deal: afternoon tea with a twist, [from the Groupon ad]

“adding a twist to afternoon tea, Beluga's
version of the pre-dinner pinky lifter eschews warm beverages in favour of the
more exciting cocktail. Bellini cocktails will be poured from a teapot and
served with a selection of sandwiches, such as cucumber, smoked salmon, and
cheese and ham. Scones with clotted cream and a cake stand flanked by teatime
treats will also be included for duos to feast on.”

Hmmmm. Well. I’m not sure I’d call it Afternoon Tea but there
was certainly a twist, if the fact that is was potentially the worst dining
experience of my life counts as a twist.

We had a table booked for 5pm and arrived at about 4.55
where we were kept waiting for almost ten minutes, the waiter, when he finally
arrived glanced at his watch and snippishly told us we were late. Actually, no,
we were on time. Black mark number
one, then.

The dining area was split into two: a low-lit area of cosy
tables for two and big comfy booths and a smaller area near the kitchen. Our
table was near the kitchen. Oh hang on, I tell a lie, our table was all but in the kitchen. In the kitchen and in
full view of the chef who had a plaster on every finger and the kitchen staff
who sauntered through the restaurant with bags of food from Macdonalds and the
trays of ready prepared sandwiches
only partly covered with clingfilm. Appetising. Almost as appetising as the
lingering smell of chips and gravy, which is a lovely aroma in my dining room
when we’re having a chippy tea but less lovely in what is supposed to be one of
Manchester’s up and coming bar-restaurants.

We were given a piece of A4 paper, printed with [slightly
smudged] details of three cocktails and left to choose. That took all of ten
seconds – there were only three choices after all – and we both went for a
pornstar martini, having had one before at a nice cocktail bar before and
knowing we liked it. It took 20 minutes for anyone to come and take our drinks
order which was rich, considering the attitude we’d gotten for our allegedly
tardiness upon arrival. 20 minutes for our drinks order to be taken and another
20 minutes for our drinks to be poured from a jug on the bar and into a teapot
and brought to us and here’s a note Beluga if you’re reading this: a pornstar
martini should contain vanilla sugar, vanillavodka, passionfruit and a shot of champagne, not just vodka and J2O. You might want to bear that in
mind. Oh and serving drinks in chipped glasses is pretty bad form. AND, the
flyer clearly stated 4 cocktails. We only got two. We would have complained but
to be honest we couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.

The food [and I use that term loosely] when it eventually
arrived was not served on a lovely cake stand as promised but instead on a
chopping board. This wasn’t altogether unusual; I’ve eaten in several places
where the food is served on wooden slabs instead of plates. Those wooden slabs
though, aren’t usually used. Yes,
that’s right, our selection of cakes and sandwiches came to our table on a
chopping board complete with grooves from the knives used to chop whatever the
hell they chopped. I’m trying hard to convince myself it wasn’t raw meat. The
bread was stale due to the aforementioned pre-prepared sandwiches only partly
covered with clingfilm and the sandwiches a little warm, the cakes seemed to us
like the ones you buy at Iceland, you know the type? They’re frozen and come in
party-packs of 40 and they tasted like shite.
The scones were not home-made, the cream was whipped and not clotted and
there was something on that chopping board that I could not identify and that I
had to force myself to swallow. Forget Revels Roulette, this was Afternoon Tea
Roulette and it was a whole other ball-game.

The place was freezing cold, there was food spatter down the
backs of the chairs, one big table in the corner was separated from the kitchen
by only a black velvet curtain, I’m
not even kidding, the toilets smelt like sewers, and there was a hole in the
wall covered over with parcel tape. The icing on the cake though was this
conversation, overheard between another diner and a waiter:

‘Could I please see the wine list?’

‘We don’t have a wine list, it’s either white or red.’

I will never go
back to that place not ever, not if you paid me. If I’d paid full price I’d
have lodged a complaint: I was tempted to do so anyway. The only saving grace
was that……actually there was no saving grace; it was utter shite.

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About

A bookworm in her mid-30's who likes sunshine and snow covered mountains and the cold side of the pillow and being the little spoon. Writes book reviews more akin to coffee with friends than any intellectual book club. Binge watcher who has been known to use holiday days to stay in her pyjamas under a blanket watching Ugly Betty and who thinks nothing will ever be as sad as Billy on Ally McBeal although some things come close. Does not believe in the term guilty pleasures - you do you, you gorgeous creature. A happy, sleepy, over-thinker.

About Me

Josephine. Mid-30’s (still not sure how to adult). Bookworm. Lover of coffee and marmite and pad thai. Hardly ever eats breakfast. Has too many copies of Alice in Wonderland. Also loves skiing and the sea and road-trips and laughter. Terrified of wasps.
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